I just got back from a short trip to Tokyo, where I did what any man would: I took tons of pictures and posted them to Facebook and Instagram, reaping the likes and showing my friends and followers that I have really good taste in yakitori and know where to find the best shio ramen.

But after reading an opinion piece on Ravishly called “Your Obsession With Travel Sure Feels Classist To Me,” I almost feel bad about it all.

Almost.

But should I feel bad for posting pictures and videos of my trips to social media in fear that my friends and followers will be triggered into shame spirals about their own misfortunes?

The author of the piece, Katherine Dim Clover, points out that travel is a “leisure activity enjoyed largely by the upper classes.” She recounts how, as a child, she felt embarrassed about not having gone anywhere exotic when teachers would ask what she did during summer break.

And it’s getting worse, she says. Travel is marketed as something that broadens worldview, enriches people and may even be necessary to be happy.

But what about people who can’t afford to travel? Clover feels shame about that, and she’s probably not alone. The way we share our travel photos and videos on social media can make others feel bad about themselves as well. Not only are they missing out, they’re not even able to make a change due to financial or other constraints. They feel low.

She finishes off with: “When you hold travel up on some kind of pedestal, you sound classist as hell, and I wish you would stop that.”

I was with her until that last bit. I understand that not everyone has the same resources I do—that I can up and head to Tokyo for a wedding—but I refuse to feel bad about that. Should I feel bad for having air conditioning during a heatwave when someone else doesn’t? Should I feel bad about anything I have or can do that someone else cannot?

Of course not.

But should I feel bad for posting pictures and videos of my trips to social media in fear that my friends and followers will be triggered into shame spirals about their own misfortunes?

Maybe, but I refuse to do so. Not because I think it’s their problem that they cannot travel. Not because I don’t care about their feelings. Not because I think they can simply choose to not look or not follow my updates.

But because I am sharing my experience with them. That is, by nature, a good thing. These aren’t selfies. These aren’t “look at me” proclamations of superiority. Just like Anthony Bourdain shares amazing experiences in culture and food around the world via his television documentaries, I’m sharing experiences that I’m lucky enough to have with my friends, family and followers. In fact, because most of them know me personally, they’re able to experience those things with some context. If they end up feeling bad about the fact that I’m doing a little traveling, well, that’s on them. They can look at that picture in one of two ways: “Wow, that’s amazing!” or “That’s not fair.”

The choice is one of maturity, not class.

Especially if they’re never going to have the chance to eat yakitori in Tokyo. Sure, they could watch an episode of No Reservations and get a sense of Tokyo, but they know me, and my little pictures let them know that I am experiencing something great, and that when I take that photo and share it, I’m doing it for them.

Sure, the likes, and followers make me feel good, but if I didn’t care that my loved ones care about what I am up to, what would society be?